


When is a twin not a twin?

by Lusus_naturae



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusus_naturae/pseuds/Lusus_naturae
Summary: When a journalist asks to speak to a seemingly ordinary drug user, he gets more than he expected from a lost soul in need of his next fix.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one:

A ghost of a man sat in a chair. Not really a ghost, the physical body was still attached to the magical soul inside it... But it had seen better days of its life. He spoke in his native tongue about his first childhood memory, he knew some of it was shit... But most of it was real. He couldn't give it much thought, his friend should be back from his dealer soon, and he was already fidgeting in his jacket, itching to take it off and get this long awaited high already, splitting what he had left between bottle caps inpatiently, but there wasn't enough. A simple journalist pulled him to one side on the street a few hours ago and offered him a couple hundred dollars straight up payment for an interview. The drugs he could buy with 200 dollars was all he could think about when he agreed. He'd done worse for less.  
Nothing was going to get his friend back from his dealer any quicker, so he decided, through the pain of slight withdrawal, that he'd have a little fun.  
"Do you blame your childhood for your drug abuse? Only children are statisticly lonelier.. Or maybe.. A trauma?" he asked, it taking the young man, who's name turned out to be Bill, a while to answer. He looked around the room, not disinterested, but instead, fascinated with every tiny bump on the ceiling. Hmmmm... Bug or bump...or a hole in the universe?  
"Ummm... No... No, I don't. I.... I blame... The boredom.. Yeah... Definitely the boredom" a mischievous smile on his face spread, it would have been sweet if he'd have been truly mischievous, and not just flunking the question.  
"Are you saying... That you take drugs that are destroying your body because you're bored?" ever the journalist, straight to the point.  
"Someone can't take a joke..." Bill replied vaguely "When is Gill coming back?" That was all he actually gave a shit about.  
"He'll be back soon. Please try to concentrate."  
Bill rolled his neck and head round until he was looking at the journalist in the eye "I am." he chuckled with a little sniff that could have been mistaken for a tick.  
"What drives you, Bill?"....... Silence...  
"Huh?" he heard the question, but at the same time, he didn't. It was like having his head under water.  
"What drives you? If it's not the childhood or any kinda trauma... Then... What?"  
Bill rolled his eyes along with his neck and head again, this time, leaning back in his seat. He might as well answer seriously, because lying was just making this asshole all the more persistent.  
"Because... When I'm high... I see him.. '  
"See who?"....  
"...... See who?" he asked again. Softer tone. This wasn't a joke anymore.  
"My twin brother..." Bill replied, tugging at the neck of his shirt, still staring at that spot on the ceiling before closing his eyes and getting lost in a memory.


	2. The memory.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill recalls one of his many memories...

The memory. 

Walking down a street, barefoot, filthy, crouching in a doorway to catch his breath and warm up. How was a doorway any warmer? You wouldn't truly know that unless you've ever spent days in the freezing cold. It was out of the wind and spitting rain. It was a vast improvement. But he didn't stop there long, moving along, through the concrete jungle that was the streets of the town they lived in. He run into a few people, and quickly made his way through them, not unscathed. He eventually arrived at the house his friend was staying in, sat down on the sofa and watched everyone as they smiled and laughed and divided the neat little line of white power he needed. He laughed at a distant joke, not because it was funny, but because he knew where he was going and was momentarily in the best mood of his life.   
He leaned in and took a long snort along the silver lining of his storm cloud. Leaning back into the sofa once again, he slipped into the world he felt he belonged in... Which happened to be the unconscious one. 

Waking up with a gasp in a completely different environment, he sat bolt up right on the somewhat nicer sofa he found himself on, his jet black long hair falling over his shoulders as he did.   
"Finally, the sleeping beauty is awake!"   
Tom called out from the other side of the room from behind a recording booth glass window.   
"Tom" he smiled, shaking from head to toe as he sat there, in the cutest little outfit, tight jeans, leather jacket, sleeves pulled up to the elbow, gloves. He loved it all.   
"Sorry I couldn't come quicker... I got held up"  
"No problem. We don't need you anyway. Gustav decided to do lead vocals on the next album." Tom joked, deadpan as ever, anyone else would have thought he was being serious, but he of course wasn't.   
"Yeah, I can imagine that going well." he huffed, smiling a little bit, but he was distracted. Tom came over to the sofa, calling a break on editing a track, and sat next to Bill, the sofa was practically vibrating with Bills shivering.   
"You're so cold..." he said, a caring hand on top of Bills when he noticed how pale he looked   
"Someone took my jacket... In the park... I had to walk to my friends in my t-shirt... All of my money was in my coat jacket so I couldn't afford what I needed to get here for too long." he looked sad. Too sad. Cocaine got him high, but it didn't last as long as heroine.   
"Just a short visit, then? We better make the most of it." if there was one thing Tom could do, it was bring a smile to Bills face. He grabbed his hand and yelled back to his team about taking a half and hour break. He swiped his jacket off the rack and swung it around Bill in an attempt to keep him warm, before dragging him down the empty car lot under the studio and finding something in the trunk of his car he knew Bill would love.   
"Remote control airplanes!" Tom grinned, handing onto to Bill, who was smiling and far more excited than he should have been. He wasn't going to be here long this time, so he had to enjoy it, and not take a single second to think about the life that got him here. He still shook. A sign his other life body was cold. 

"I've always wanted one of these! They go super high, too! I'm calling mine jumbie!" he giggled, that name came too quick, he'd clearly given it a lot of thought.   
"Jumbie? Really? Oh my God, Bill, you're such a child!" he teased, laughing, but already racing his airplane along side Bills.  
After an hour of playing around and laughing until his cheeks hurt, Bill started to feel tired, lightheaded, he was sobering up the other end.   
"I don't wanna leave yet" he whispered as Tom took him to the back of his car and laid him down   
"It's okay.. I'll be here when you get back... You gotta keep yourself healthy.. Go eat something. Laugh with your friends... You won't be missing anything, just me cussing at pro-tools for the next four hours."   
"Okay..." Bill chuckled sleepily "Don't cuss too loud.. I don't want people thinking you're the loud brother and not me."  
"Power rangers power?" Tom smiled   
"Power rangers power, activate." Bill managed to whispered before waking up as his usual blond self, surrounded by friends laying on the floor, sofa, all chatting softly. It was night out. The windows had been smashed. Freezing cold was an old friend that never left. His stomach flipped at the thought of food, so he shifted in his spot, pulled an old blanket from the back of the sofa over him and laid awake. Thinking. Listening. He just wanted to get back there with his brother. He wanted to sit and listen to him cussing out an editing program. Just once. He wanted all those little moments he missed, the seconds that everyone takes for granted with their families.


End file.
